Look After You
by ThatIsMyFullName
Summary: [Llamas With Hats]. Sometimes it's hard to tell who is looking after who. PaulxCarl.
1. Carl's Little Habits

There were times when Carl would absolutely not take care if himself at all.

Paul would step into the room belonging to the other man and be aghast at the landfill residing in it.

_"Carrrrl."_

"Yeah?", Would respond the sociopath groggily from beneath a few blankets just thrown into a pile at the corner of the room. He had a sort of treasure collection going on the rest of his bed, a vast variety of beautiful jewelry and expensive-looking golden items that Carl eyed a bit suspiciously.

"I'm not even going to ask about _those_ right now." Paul put his hands on his hips with a stern look, "-but this mess! Carl, look at it! It's seeping out into the hallway!"

"Paul, it's not a mess. Maybe from_ your_ perspective, but from my point of view, it's a lateral filing system!"

"...A lateral filing system." Paul repeated skeptically, raising an eyebrow at Carl from the other side of trash. _"Ew!_ Carl! I think I seen something moving in there!"

"Oh! Uh? Wow, Paul, Are you seeing things? Maybe you should see a doctor."

"Carl, I'm not the one who needs therapy. I seen something move in there!", Paul pointed at the pile of trash, which now had a paw wriggling out of it.

"...Uh..."

Paul watched with a small amount of horror as he realized a barely-alive cat slowly squirming out of a pile of trash with one paw. "-AHH!-" Paul backed off quickly. "CAAAARL! That cat is _attached_ to the trash!" He yelled, watching as the trashcat slowly and agonizingly scooted itself across the floor.

Carl sat up in his bed, rubbing one of his eyes, "Well, yes, you. Way to go, why don't you tell he's adopted too while you're at it!"

The trash cat meowed, a low guttural sound that shook the entire trash pile and sent bits of trash fluid everywhere around it.

"Ughhh! That's disgusting, Carl!", Paul protested. "Why did you cut a cat in half and see it to trash items? The poor thing doesn't even have eyes anymore!"

"Yeah, I suppose I really should take it out soon." Carl mused halfheartedly, seeming to be fully content with the situation as he picked up a string of pearls that looked to be expensive as all hell. Paul's eyebrows drew together slightly, "Carl! Where did you get all of that?"

"Hm? The trash?", Carl asked innocently. "It accumulated on its own." He replied simply.

"No! Not that! The money! And that jewelry!" Carl demanded answers while the poor half-dead trashcat mewled pathetically across the floor of Carl's room.

"Oh! I bought it from a charity auction! To help the starving children!" Carl grinned at Paul.

"Carl, tell the truth!"

_**"MEOOOOOOOOOOWWWWW!"**_ The cat abomination let out a meow that slightly shook the floor of the house.

"I am telling the truth! I always tell the truth! I'm a very honest man!", Carl just grinned at Paul without missing a beat, "Without me auctioning off all that stolen money, how would Oliver have some more?"

"Carl! Tell me the truth this instant! You stole from that department store in the next city over again, didn't you?"

"Well, I _never!_ The accusations that are coming out of your mouth right now!" Paul acted hurt, but Carl just narrowed his eyes slightly with a frown.

"You did, didn't you?", Paul put a hand against his forehead, seeming absolutely done with this morning already. "Carl, an entire street was set on fire during the robbery! Why did you set it on fire?"

The trashcat was scratching at the wall, now quietly trying to electrocute itself with the wall plug-in.

"I did not set it on fire! I merely saved the stores from somebody else setting it on fire!"

"Carl, that doesn't even make any sense!" Paul was now regarding the pile of stolen jewelry and covered his mouth with his hand before pointing. "Please don't tell me that's a real finger in that ring!"

"Well, the cashier wouldn't give it up willingly!"

"Oh, god-!"

"Yeah, I know! Pfft, hostages these days, am I right?"

The trash cat was currently zapping itself and smoke slowly filled the room as the cat wriggled intensely and emitted loud trashcat sounds.

"CARL, GET IT OUT OF HERE!", Paul hollered, aghast at the entire situation.

"Oh, fine. I'll get outside for you, but you owe me!" Carl got up begrudgingly and quickly tossed the fried trashcat abomination out the window and into the dumpster in the street. "Ooh! He shoots, he scores." Carl smiled and closed the window.

"Ew, Carl, your room smells." Paul had a hand on his face as he stepped back again.

"That's just my natural masculine musk." Carl chuckled, wandering back to the bed and picking up a gold ruby necklace that held a string of jewels in a lighter shade of red.

"No, Carl, that's the smell of burnt cat! Just think of what you did to the poor thing!" Paul whined, stepping back over to the window and opened it, trying to get the room ventilated.

He heard Carl's footsteps behind him as he opened up the other window as well. He turned slowly and his brown eyes met the sight of Carl holding the necklace out.

"Ah!" He nearly bumped into the window, a hand at his own chest before he sighed, rolling his eyes, "Carl! Gosh, don't scare me like that!" Paul scolded the other man.

"You're not going to tell on me, are you?", Carl asked, raising an eyebrow as he continuously stared at him.

Paul had noticed a long time ago that Carl had this habit of staring at whomever he was speaking to. He wouldn't usually look away while he was talking, and if he did, it was only for a moment before his eyes were trained back on him.

Paul rolled his eyes slightly, snapping his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Carl, we've been through this. Remember?", he sighed, straightening out his red hat on his head, a stern look at Carl. "Goodness knows I should, but..."

He let that statement drift off as the man in the green hat slowly reached over, his hands wrapping around Paul's neck. "-What- are you-!"

There was a small snap sound.

Paul glanced down as he nearly expected Carl to try and kill him, but was instead greeted with the sight of the lightish-red and gold necklace around his neck. "-oh?"

"It goes with your hat." Carl gestured, nodding at him.

"Oh."

"Oh?", Carl raised an eyebrow with a small smile.

"I just thought maybe you were-", Paul shrugged, "-I don't know."

"I don't know what you are insinuating, but I'm a gentleman!" Carl said smugly, with that knowing smile that he usually wore.

"You know what I meant, Carl!", Paul rolled his eyes slightly, moving around Carl and trying to surpress the slight burning sensation in his face at the implications Carl was joking about.

He glanced at Carl and threw a frown on his own face, glancing at the very slight distance between them and moved to the side slightly. "I can't accept this, Carl! You stole it from some poor lady who now has one less finger!" He took the necklace off and set it back on the bed with the rest of the pile.

"Ah, come on! I'm sure she won't even notice what's missing!"

"How could she not know what's missing, Carl?"

"I burned the entire street down, remember?", Carl smiled charmingly at him. It seemed like their little back and forth banter just made the whole situation more fun for the sociopath.

"I don't- CARL! - you bit her finger off! I'm pretty sure she's going to notice you stole from her store!"

"I think she's more preoccupied with the fact she's a bit more crispy than she used to be."

"...What. Carl! What did you do?"

"Huh? Me? I didn't do it!"

_"Carrrrl!_ Did you start her on fire?"

"Hey! I didn't do it! The only thing going up in smoke lately is the state of the economy!"

"-and that cat that electrocuted in here that you sewed to your trash, Carl." Paul had a hand to his face once again, his brow furrowed once again.

"Hey, that was pure genius. took /himself/ out. Never before has trash had that amount of simplicity!"

"Carl, that's terrible." Paul's brows went up, but the pun was not lost on him. Paul tried to stop the small sound that rose from his throat.

"...You almost laughed!"

"No, I did not," Paul shook his head, turning to leave. "I'm going to cook breakfast."

Paul sighed heavily as he left, but casted a look back at Carl before he left down the stairs.

He couldn't help but notice the smug little happy look across Carl's face as he cleaned up the rest of the mess in his room.


	2. Morality Pick Up Lines

Paul had a small list of errands to run that day, along with any tasks to just do in the house.

His list featured a bunch of specific tasks that were already checked off, including, but not limited to:  
__  
__

__•Have the living room carpet cleaned again.__

___• Pull money from the ATM  
__  
• Check the fridge for anything that is not meant to be in normal fridges. ('Fingers?' was scribbled alongside it, but then crossed off)_

_• Check Carl's room for anything dangerous or living ('and/or previously living' was added.)_

_• Take out the garbage.  
_  
_• Make a grocery run.  
**-** Bread, celery, milk, crescent rolls  
_

_• Weed the rose garden!_

_• Sweep the stairs.  
___  
• Take out and clean that - (whatever that is) - in the basement (?)__

• Remind Carl to clean his room, shower, change, and that hands are not an acceptable replacement for actual food.

_• Return movies to the store._

The rest of his tasks had taken more time than Paul had additionally thought, just long enough where the sun was sinking below the edge of the horizon, casting an orange glow across the town. Paul huffed a bit, skipping reading the household tasks and instead his gaze skimmed towards the activities he had yet to do. He already scheduled the carpeting to be cleaned, he picked up a few groceries at the store, and now all there was left was to stop by the ATM in front of the bank...

He glanced down the street behind himself as the sun's light slowly, gradually receded as he walked across the street and onto the sidewalk. The town changed from being lit in an orange light casted, and turned slowly into a darkened state. "Ah." He clicked his tongue in slight annoyance that his other errands took so long. For instance, what was _supposed_ to be a quick chore to check off the list, ended up as a two-hour fight with a weird, moving blob mess Carl had left in the basement. It had turned out to be alive, violent, dangerous, and hungry. That then ensued a war between Paul and the mysterious blob using only a -o Magic Eraser, the blob's own acid, as weapons.

He glanced towards the horizon as he walked, taking in the hues of the sky a moment. Sure, the streets were dark, but the sky was pretty. He shifted the grocery bag on his arm, humming quietly to himself with a small smile as he walked alone the sidewalk and towards the machine, shifting the grocery bag in order to search in his pockets for his card. As it became darker out, the streetlights began to switch on, one by one, down the street.

"Here it is..." Paul muttered to himself as he found his credit card. He fumbled with the bag of groceries in his arm and balanced them in his arms before he reached up to swipe the plastic in the the machine, and continued to enter the code.

That was when he felt something cool and metallic against the side of his head, followed by a click of a hammer being pulled.

"Take out all the money in your account." Growled a low voice behind him. Paul felt a chill go down his spine and a fear set in as he realized he was being mugged. By someone with a gun against his head. Sure, he was used to danger because of living with a dangerous sociopath for so long, but he's never been directly threatened.

"_Don't-_ ...Don't shoot me..." Paul spoke, trying to reason with the person who had the gun. He hated panic he had in his voice. His hands were shaky as he continued to enter in the correct codes into the ATM.

"Then don't fucking mess around here. Just grab the fucking money and I won't blow your goddamn brains out." Growled the man behind him. Paul could feel his pulse going a hundred miles a second, adrenaline and fight-or-flight instincts making him screw up the code once. He couldn't help the sound of his voice breaking slightly, "Just- I'm trying..." Paul spoke, trying to keep the man with the gun calm, but then he gasped as the man suddenly screamed out.

Paul jumped, dropping the bag in his arm as he was startled, his impulse telling him to run as the man screamed, scared that he would be shot. Paul felt his pulse hammering in his veins, telling him to run and get out of there, but as he glanced behind him to access the situation.

What else would he see besides some mugger dressed in black with his ear being currently bitten off.

"Carl!" Paul called out in shock.

The sociopath was currently beating the attempted thief down into the street, and blood now pouring from the guy's head. The screams were quickly silenced by a quick twist of the neck, and a loud, sickening crack being heard. Paul couldn't help but notice through the bloody mess that Carl had something of a sick grin on his face as he watched the body of the mugger fall with a thud to the concrete sidewalk.

Paul could hear his own pulse, even after everything went silent. "C-Carl..." Paul had a hand on the ATM, leaning against it in a bit of shock at what had just happened. He stared at the body a moment, and felt himself shaking slightly, even though the danger was gone. He seen the gun lying on the street and couldn't look away from the mess, as if stuck in a trance.

There was soft panting coming from his roommate, which could probably be expected from someone after beating a mugger to death. "Did you hear that snap? Wasn't that cool, Paul? It was like playing with legos! Well, you know, as if legos were anywhere near as fun as snapping a guys neck."

Paul finally looked up from the body to see Carl there, smiling at him with a little satisfied grin on his face. He seemed pleased with the situation, as if he was just happy to kill a guy.

"Carl... What are we going to do? With him?" Paul asked, gesturing at the dead man in front of them.

"Well, we could cut off his hands, throw his body in the dumpster, then light said dumpster on fire? _Or we could take the boring way out and you could call the cops and we go to court and just chalk it up to self-defense_... because of that camera that recorded everything. Personally, I like the hands idea!"

"Carl! What camera?" Paul asked, very concerned as he looked around.

"This one!" Carl said, very matter-of-factly as he pointed over at a camera he had lying on the sidewalk that was just out of the streetlight.

"Were you- why were you- _recording?_" Paul asked, raising an eyebrow at Carl, who was now wiggling around the ear he had bitten off of the dead guy previously.

"You want the truth? Fine. I was going to compile a bunch of stalker-y looking clips and edit them together with creepy music and vaugely-threatening words, then leave it in your email if you didn't pick up crescent rolls." He smiled, and reached over into the bag Paul dropped earlier, and let out a triumphant sound. "-And you didn't disappoint!" Carl said, sticking the can of crescent rolls into his pocket casually.

"...Carl, you're ridiculous..." Paul sighed, a hand over his eyes as he leaned against the ATM, letting himself tiredly slide down to the ground. He was just too shaken up from the ordeal to even pretend to have the heart to yell at Carl for stalking him. If it wasn't for Carl being there, Paul would probably be dead right now.

Paul just heard a chuckle come from the other man, followed by casual whistling as he dragged the the body away, and Paul could hear the sound of weight being dragged into the alleyway next to the bank. Paul swore he heard the sound of metal, followed by gross sawing sounds, but he didn't even bother to look up just yet.

_"Doo, doo, doo, I got some hands! Doo, doo, doo, you got some too! Doo, doo, doo, let's get together! Doo, doo, doo, I know what we can do!"_

Paul couldn't help but open his eyes a moment, and was somewhat aghast that Carl was casually sawing off the hands from the guy while singing some ridiculous song about it. The man in the red hat sighed softly, _"Carrrlllll..."_ He spoke his name in his usual admonishing tone of voice. He realized how surreal the situation of complaining to his roommate about the fact he was taking body parts from the mugger, but it was clear he just didn't have enough conviction right now.

Carl just grinned, pocketing the stolen dismembered hands right next to his crescent rolls, continued on to throw the body into the dumpster, then proceeding to hum happily as he lit the entire contents on fire. Paul had looked away as Carl burned the body, both not wanting to see the gore of a bloody body being burned in front of him, and because he realized that if he let Carl do this, he was allowing him to kill a man and get away with it. He looked down at the ground, somewhat feeling guilty that he was basically taking part in Carl's antics by standing by and letting him get rid of the evidence of his killing. Was it alright for him to just sit here and not say anything? Did this make him just as bad as Carl?

As he stared at the ground sadly, he heard Carl's footsteps come closer. Slowly, step by step.

It was odd, Paul thought, how he never found himself fearing Carl. He never really found himself feeling any kind of danger in the others presence, even though Carl was joyfully burning the body of somebody else he just killed. Even when the sociopath began to walk towards him, Paul just continued to stare down at the now slightly red concrete.

There was a quiet chuckle, "What? No yelling at me for the hands?" Carl asked playfully as he stood in front of Paul.

There was a few moments of quiet, and Paul didn't say anything a moment or two. Not until Carl sighed audibly, "_What_ are you doing?" He asked, seeming a bit upset that Paul wasn't scolding him for the latest shenanigans of stealing hands and body burning.

"...it's just... Carl, We shouldn't have killed that person... Carl, he's dead."

Carl rose an eyebrow skeptically, staring down at Paul as he leaned against the ATM. He seemed absolutely perplexed with Paul's guilt and sad behavior. "Of course he's dead." He began, "He threatened to kill you..." Carl said with a casual shrug.

Paul slid his face into his own hands, "It's not right to kill people, Carl..." He said quietly, his voice muffled. He seemed really bummed out that he had any part of the murder at all, even if he was in danger. "Doesn't matter the reason..."

There was a few beats, where the only sound was the quiet snapping sounds of the body being burned by the dumpster fire in the background. Paul vaguely noticed the disgusting smell of burnt body was somewhat familiar at this point from knowing Carl for so long. Paul hadn't moved from his spot, and to be honest, he didn't really feel like moving.

Carl's voice spoke up, "C'mon, Paul. We have to leave before some weirdo calls the cops on us." He chuckled. Paul sighed and was about to speak up and ask if it was too late to call the cops, but instead he was cut off in his thoughts by Carl leaning down and gently hooking his arms underneath Paul. He was easily able to lift him up off of the ground and carry him in his arms as he began to walk away from the scene of the crime.

"geez, it's like you never got rid of a body before." He spoke with a chuckle as he began walking away from the scene.

"Carl!" Paul protested being carried a moment, his arms moving to hook around Carl's shoulders to make sure he wouldn't drop him, though the other man clearly was strong enough to carry him.

Honestly, though... It felt kind of nice to be looked after like this. Especially after all that had happened that evening.

"...That was still terrible, Carl." Paul sighed with a bit of resignment, letting his head rest against his shoulder. "I'm going to pretend those hands sticking out of your pocket aren't sick."

"And I'm going to pretend to delete those videos I took earlier! So, we're even!" Carl smiled, holding Paul close to himself.

Paul smiled slightly, shaking his head. "At this point, I'm not even going to ask."

"Also, what you _should_ have said was _'Are those two hands and a can of crescent rolls in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?'_"

"-That makes no sense-"

"Or _'Keep your hands to yourself.'_"

"-That's terrible."

"'My hands are cold! Quick! Warm them on your ass!"

"-CARL!"

"Oh, what? I guess pick up lines don't work on people you've already picked up."

"Ugh...", Paul lat a hand smack against his own face, but didn't seem too terribly irritated. Paul just sighed, and shook his head slightly, his head against Carl's shoulder as he was carried. Carl looked down at him and seen the slight smile Paul was trying to hide and chuckled.


End file.
